


Someone To Look After You

by iamisaac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brother/Brother Incest, M/M, mild praise!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 13:06:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11647167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamisaac/pseuds/iamisaac
Summary: James has had a hard day, and he doesn't want Albus to help him relax. He really doesn't.





	Someone To Look After You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumosed_quill/gifts).



“You’re late.”

James spun round to see Albus sitting on his bed. Reclining, to be more precise.

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?” he demanded, still strung up from a long day at the Ministry.

Al gave his characteristic shrug. “Waiting for you,” he said, as if it were obvious.

“Fine,” James snapped. “Well, I’m here. Now, get out.”

Albus blinked large green eyes at him, and James hated how that made him feel inside. Confused and disconcerted, and – yes, all right, a bit turned on.

“But you’re hot and stressed and grubby. You need to change out of those clothes, Jamie. Take a shower. Put on something that isn’t your work stuff.”

“I will. Now, go,” James instructed, knowing that Al wouldn’t. Knowing (and denying that he knew) that he didn’t want him to.

“’S okay. I’m comfy here. Don’t worry about me,” Albus said, a faint smile on his lips.

James glared. “I wasn’t.” He breathed out hard and turned away. “All right.”

He stripped off his Auror robes, reminding himself that he needed to put them in the wash tonight. He ignored the sound of Al’s indrawn breath as he bent down to undo his boots; with his back to his brother, Al had an all too clear view of his arse in the tight-fitting Auror trousers. And James hadn’t done that on purpose. He hadn’t.

Boots off, he removed his socks, wincing a little at the smell. Well, if anything might put Al off his plans, the stink of his feet might manage it, James thought wryly. He lifted his hands to undo his shirt, and found slightly smaller hands covering his.

“Let me,” Al murmured, having crossed the room to him as silent as a panther. “You’re hot. You’re tired. You need someone to look after you, don’t you?”

“No,” James said, but somehow his hands had dropped to his sides and he let out a soft huff of breath as Albus gently began to work at the buttons on his top.

‘Healer’s hands’, he’d heard someone describe Al’s once – and he’d had a hot wave of jealousy flood through him that anyone was talking about Al like that; that Al had had his hands on anyone enough for them to think about them. But it was true that his profession choice had surprised no one, any more than James’s own had. James went out and _did_ things, and Albus made everything better once James had mucked them up. That had been their style through all their childhood. Hopefully James didn’t exactly muck things up with the Aurors, but he couldn’t deny that he’d ended up in St Mungo’s a time or two. Where Al was working to make things right.

“Let me make things better,” Albus said, as if he were reading James’s mind. “You’re so tense, Jamie.”

He pushed the shirt off James’s shoulders and began to massage the tight muscles, digging determined thumbs in with beautiful accuracy. James groaned at the sensation, unable to stop himself. He shrugged his shirt the rest of the way off.

“That’s it,” Al said quietly, the soft voice which must reassure all his patients as he tended to them. “Relax.”

For a few blissful moments, James did just that, allowing Albus to have his way. He told himself that there was nothing wrong in this, just a massage. Anyone might do it. He could let Al touch him like this, and it meant nothing. It didn’t mean he’d agreed to anything else. It didn’t mean -

Al’s hands began to run down James’s back, and the touch was becoming more intimate, less clinical. James gave a brief shiver, because it felt so good, so bloody good… and then pulled away.

“Albus,” he said warningly, turning to face his brother.

“Mm?” 

And that had been a mistake, because now he was face to face with Al, who was standing right up next to him, so close that James could feel the puffs of air from Al’s breathing. That he was looking into those eyes which had always been able to convince James of anything, even when he knew it was wrong. And those childhood misdemeanours which had come to mind were nothing compared to the deeds of their latter years, James thought, the guilt eating away at him once more.

Al smiled at him, that small wicked smile that no one received but James, the one which melted James inside.

“No,” James said, wrenching himself away with superhuman effort. “I’m going to shower, and then I’ll make tea, and that is _all_ , Albus Severus.”

“Of course,” Albus said, unnaturally meek. He stood utterly still facing James, his arms loose by his sides.

James looked away. If he pretended Al wasn’t there, perhaps he could persuade his body to calm down. His heart was beating unnaturally fast, as if he’d been running. He was also determinedly ignoring another part of his anatomy which apparently had no idea about appropriacy.

“Shower,” he repeated stupidly.

“Mm-hm. Go on, then. You might want to take your trousers off first, though,” Al said helpfully.

And risk nudging that part that he was so determinedly ignoring. Fucking hell. But James wasn’t admitting that anything was going on, was he? So he gave his brother another glare and snapped open the buttons on his trousers, sliding them down with his pants and daring Albus to mention the fact that he was quite blatantly half-hard.

Al didn’t.

Instead, he stepped across the carefully made space that James had created, and kissed him. Wrapped his arms around him and pressed slightly chapped lips against James’s, warm and familiar and so, so desired. James wanted to deny that he was kissing back, but somehow his hands were on Albus’s hips and he was sinking into the sensation.

“Merlin, Al, what is _wrong_ with you?” James shouted, pulling away after a few glorious seconds.

“You know what’s wrong with me,” Albus said calmly, his eyes fixed on James’s in such a way that James found himself unable to look away.

And so James watched as Al pushed his jeans down over slim hips and slenderly muscled thighs; watched as he tugged his T-shirt over his head and off; watched as his brother’s tongue slid deliberately round the lips which had so recently been pressed against James’s own. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t even be seeing Albus naked, not now they were adults. Not when there was this _thing_ between them.

“Tell me you don’t want me to do this,” Al said lowly. 

James bent his head down, refusing to meet his brother’s gaze. His brother, for fuck’s sake.

“Tell me,” Albus said clearly, “that you don’t want me to fuck your arse until you’re moaning and begging for me to let you come.”

“Fuck you, Albus,” James muttered.

Al laughed, clear and ringing. “No, Jamie, that’s not what you want at all,” he mocked, stepping forward once more and running a hand down James’s back until it lingered over his bum. He pressed his fingers into the crease between James’s arse cheeks and added, “You know precisely what you want. You’re just too much of a coward to admit it.”

No Gryffindor could take that from a Slytherin and his damned Slytherin brother knew it. James took a long, deep breath.

“Do it,” he said.

Al pushed him onto the bed, lying on top of him with his hard (beautiful, James’s mind insisted on adding) erection pressed between his legs.

“Do what, Jamie?”

James was instinctively rubbing back and forth against that glorious pressure, revelling in the sensation of having Albus’s body laid right against him. He heard a groan, and realised a second later that he was the one who’d made it. 

His bastard brother was going to make him spell it out. Make him admit what he would deny under Veritaserum, if he could.

“Fuck me.”

“I will. Oh, I will.”

There was darkness in Al’s tone, the darkness which – along with his ambitious determination to get what he wanted, James included – had made the Sorting Hat choose his for Slytherin. James gave a little instinctive shiver, which he knew Albus could feel. He wasn’t sure whether it was fear or hope… well, perhaps he was, but James couldn’t admit that he wanted everything Al offered. Every time he told himself it wouldn’t happen again, and every time he hoped with everything he had that he was lying. Without Albus…

Without Albus, James was nothing.

Gently, Albus pushed James’s legs apart, and James obeyed with mindless willingness. Once he started giving himself over to his brother, he gave it all up.

“Good boy,” Al praised, and James heated up under the words.

He’d be humiliated later, both about what he’d done and about the way he reacted to praise from Albus. From his younger brother, of all people. At the moment, though, his cock filled and pressed against the bed as he tried not to writhe in pleasure under Albus’s commendation.

“Al,” he said, hearing the pleading whine in his own voice as he did so.

Al’s laugh was gently mocking and yet loving simultaneously. “But you don’t want this, Jamie,” his brother reminded him.

“Please,” James whispered into the pillow.

Al heard, whispering a spell which lubed and prepared James. Sometimes he did it manually, but tonight James was grateful for the calm mechanics of spellwork. He needed Albus _now_.

“Gonna fuck you,” Albus said quietly, hoisting James’s arse a little in the air in order to position himself. “Merlin, James, you’re so fucking gorgeous. D’you know how hot you look in your Auror uniform? One day I’m going to fuck you still half-dressed in it. Push those red robes up and those tight effing trousers down and pound your arse ‘til you scream.”

His cock was nudging at James’s small opening even as he spoke, and the combination of the words and actions made a small groan come from James’s lips. Al knew that James would be thinking of that next time he got dressed for work, thinking of Al fucking him hard in his work clothes. Making him come all over them, James thought with a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t prevent.

“Do me,” James begged. “Now. Please, Albus. Fuck, just -”

His words were cut off by his brother’s actions, pushing into his arse at the same moment as Albus leaned forward and pulled hard on his hair. James gasped at the double sensation, loving Al’s control over his whole body.

“Yesss,” Al hissed behind him, his cock and his voice between them making sweat bead all down James’s back, and his cock twitch beneath him.

Then even Albus was silenced, fucking into him from the first with deep, long strokes which had James seeing stars. He could hear himself continuing to beg and plead in ever decreasing coherence as Al took him apart, wrecked him, made him just _his_. Just Albus’s, in any way his brother wanted him. 

James came, with a noise that any animal would be proud of, almost howling in the deep, painful pleasure of it all. His head was spinning and his body hot-and-cold with need, and James shuddered in the aftermath with overwhelming emotion. He could feel Albus spasming inside him, one of his brother’s hands still clenched in his hair whilst the other held so hard to his hip that James would be wearing the bruises for days if Al didn’t heal them.

Then Albus was sagging over his back, flopping down on him in the comedown period. James rolled onto his side so he could hold Al close to himself. He knew that he shouldn’t do this; somehow, this closeness, this holding, felt worse than the act itself. Sex was just – sex. This was emotion, this was the forbidden love that they didn’t speak of outside such moments. This was when James knew he needed Albus in a way he needed no one else. That he wanted no one else when he had Al. And that was – fucking terrifying.

“You ok, James?” Al mumbled into his shoulder.

James let out a small huff of amusement. Albus could fuck his brains out and not worry one bit during the act, but afterwards – afterwards, he was full of the anxiety that James had before. Now, boneless and brainless from Al’s ministrations, it was James who was the calm one and Al who worried.

“’m fine.” He kissed Albus’s messy head, and felt his magic reach out to surround him in a protective bubble. “Shh. Just rest. I’ll make tea later.”

“Make what you want.”

Albus snuggled closer, and James forgot everything that was wrong about the situation. Al was his, and he was Al’s and fuck the bloody world who said it shouldn’t be so. He tugged Albus closer still, wrapping both arms around him.

“I will, Albus, I will,” he said; and it was a promise of more than tea.


End file.
